


In the Devil's Maw

by VictoriaAGrey



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Crisis of Faith, Filming, Fun History Facts, Graphic Description of a Death, Haunted House, M/M, Ryan is NOT having a good time, Shane is a good friend ya'll, Vengeful ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-27 06:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15018875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: Having been depressed for several months, Ryan reveals to Shane that he no longer believes in the supernatural and is going to end Unsolved after filming the next season. Faced with the end of the show, Shane pulls together the investigation of a lifetime: a Halloween investigation of Trelane Castle. Both are thrilled by the idea of conducting the biggest investigation of their career, but upon arriving at Trelane, soon realize they are in way over their heads.





	1. The Build Up

**Author's Note:**

> the castle used for this fic is not a real location, but one based on several haunted locations from around the world. it's meant to be the haunted house to end all haunted houses. we'll see if I pull it off or not
> 
> all fun history facts are researched to the best of my ability. if any are incorrect, I apologize and please shoot me a correction in the comments!!
> 
> also I once promised myself I'd never write RPF, but if I'm already going to hell I might as well break my promise and deserve it!! while this fic is not particularly shippy, there is a focus on their relationship and it's..... uh, not exactly difficult to read between the lines

Absentmindedly tapping his pen against the desk, Ryan Bergara stared vacantly at the rough outline of an upcoming episode of Unsolved: Supernatural. It would serve as the penultimate episode of the season and considering that they were shooting on location in two weeks, he should be at the point of finalizing a script instead of halfheartedly scribbling down the basics about the prison's bloody history. Normally, he'd be tearing his hair out in frustration and pulling all nighters until he finished, but all he felt was a distant buzz of anxiety. A tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie.

Looking up from his notepad, he smiled at Shane, who was holding out a takeaway cup of tea for him. He usually preferred coffee, but Shane had once taken him to a tea shop near his apartment that had a spiced Thai iced tea that Ryan swore, should he ever be in the unfortunate position to request a last meal, that it would be his drink of choice. He took the drink out of his hand gratefully.

"Thanks, I needed this."

"You're welcome," he replied, taking his seat at the desk next to him. "So, what're you working on? Something ho-hum like Jonathan Luna's suicide slash murder, or are you going big and outing Disney for the Coriam murder cover-up?"

Ryan smirked. "Outline for our next shoot."

That seemed to give Shane pause, his cup of tea stopping halfway to his mouth.

"Shouldn't you already be working on the next season of True Crime?"

_Yes, yes I should be_ , Ryan thought bitterly. He should be deep into planning the next season of True Crime, but he only had two episodes fleshed out. Ryan wasn't a slacker, never had been, but then again, he also couldn't recall the last time he felt so low. Taking a sip of his tea, he froze, looking at Shane more critically than he had when he first came up to him.

The thing about Shane Madej is that, even though he was as laid back as can be with his devil may care attitude, he was also the type that overcompensated when he felt he'd done something wrong. If he thought he took his dismissive behavior too far during a shoot, he'd offer to comb through hours of footage and sound looking for anomalies (Ryan had tested this once and was genuinely surprised when Shane presented him with audio for consideration). If they got into a disagreement, he would try to take him out to lunch for several days. On one memorable occasion, he'd drunkenly called a potential Supernatural episode dedicated to exorcisms "fucking stupid" and when he realized by the end of the season that Ryan had scrapped it, he came into work one day the following week carrying no less than five books on exorcism, placed them on Ryan's desk and, with the fakest offhanded tone he'd ever heard, said, "research for next season." Taking this history into consideration, Ryan saw right through what Shane was doing.

A cup of his favorite tea from a shop which they both knew damn well was busy as hell in the morning, low-key suggesting topics, checking in on his progress and planning; it was textbook Shane trying to make up for a perceived wrong. The only difference here is that his gesture was more tentative, like he didn't know if he'd done something wrong, but was unwilling to risk that he had and not tried to make up for it. Ryan sighed inwardly, knowing it was his fault he'd been pulling away from Shane and not explaining what was going on inside himself, which made what he knew he had to do that much harder.

"You doing anything tonight?"

Shane's brow furrowed at the abrupt change in topic, but he rolled with it.

"No, why?"

"Why don't you come over? I'll throw in The Dark Knight, make you one of my ugly burritos."

Shane laughed and agreed to come over, seeming pleased that Ryan was including him in plans again. It had been awhile since they'd hung out outside of work, Ryan knowing the blame was on him since he'd been blowing off work functions and Shane's attempts to do, well, anything besides work. By his standards, he'd become a recluse and he felt bad that the only reason he was inviting Shane over at all was because he was going to give him bad news, knowing it would be in bad taste to do it at work. He respected Shane enough to not do that to him.

The rest of the work day passed away at a slog, Ryan barely managing to finalize the outline for the upcoming episode. He went home and quickly cleaned up, having failed to realize earlier that his place was a mess, and by the time Shane arrived he had their burritos ready to eat while they watched the movie. On movie nights, they'd usually end up watching a second movie or just talking for a bit, but Ryan made a show of being tired, which wasn't entirely a lie, so Shane would want to leave right after the movie. It worked and after he gave him the bag of what was left of their dessert popcorn, he offered to walk Shane out to his car. That got an eyebrow raise, but he didn't tell him no.

Ryan knew, as much as he knew that he shouldn't break the news to Shane at work, that it was rude to break the news to him at the end of the night beside his car. It _was_ rude, but he didn't want to risk the highly unlikely event that Shane would turn the whole thing into a confrontation and not have a way of escaping it. What he was going to say was difficult enough, he didn't want to get into a situation that he didn't have control over. Just as Shane was about to open the door to his car, he stopped him.

"Hey, I, uh - I have something I need to talk to you about."

Shane nodded and turned to face him.

"I figured. You weren't nearly as excited about the semi flip as usual."

Ryan smiled at the observation. "It loses its luster after a hundred or so watches."

They silently watched each other until Ryan looked away and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Listen, there's no easy way of saying this so I'm just going to say it... I'm pulling the plug on Unsolved after the next season of True Crime."

The silence that followed was so loaded and tense that Ryan, for a wild second, contemplated breaking into an all out run back to his apartment. After several excruciating seconds, he looked back up at Shane, who looked so blindsided and hurt that it broke his heart a little bit. When Shane next spoke, his voice conveyed everything he looked like he was feeling, confusion the least among them.

"Why? Did I... did I do something?"

Ryan shook his head. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I'll still do Ruining History with you, and I was thinking we could do another series together. I don't know what yet, maybe something about theme parks, but I'll think of something."

"If I didn't do anything, then what is it?" he asked, a note of irritation slipping into his tone. "You've been off for weeks and I don't know what's going on with you. You barely talk to me, you barely talk to anyone anymore."

"I've just been going through some shit, it's nothing."

"It's not nothing to me. Every time I try to get through to you it's like you put up another wall."

In an attempt at levity, Ryan smirked. "Like Caesar and his crazy ass walls?"

"Yeah, you're like the Caesar of emotional fortification," he said, smirking back before sobering. "Don't you think I at least deserve the truth?"

Ryan did think he deserved the truth, it's just that, since the realization hit him, he hadn't been able to give voice to it. He could admit it to himself in his head, but to say it out loud would be for it to be real. It would hurt, but he knew that Shane of all people didn't deserve half answers. He took a deep breath and allowed everything he was feeling to shine through.

"I don't believe anymore."

Shane blinked and as the ramification of his words sunk in, he looked progressively more horrified. It was hard to watch so Ryan started explaining himself so he'd have something else to focus on.

"When we were in Ohio at the prison, I was terrified of that knocking sound we heard until we found out it was the vent closing. Then I thought I heard muffled conversation and it turned out to be fucking birds in the ceiling." He laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head in disbelief. "That night was the beginning of the end. It just got harder and harder to believe until I didn't believe at all."

"What - what about the rest of your evidence?" Shane asked as he scratched at the side of his head, which Ryan had come to learn was something of a nervous tic.

"What evidence?" he balked. "It's all bullshit, you've said so yourself."

"That's not -."

Ryan interrupted, saving Shane from digging himself a hole pointlessly. "You know I'm right because you think the same thing." Silence prevailed for several seconds before he continued. "It's gotten so hard to do the show knowing I don't believe anymore, none of it. The spirit box is just words strung together from radio DJs on different channels in the most annoying way possible. Creaking is just the sound of wood expanding or contracting from the temperature; the house settling. Ghosts and other shit are just peoples' eyes making something out of nothing. Everything has an explanation. Just because we don't have the answer doesn't mean there isn't one.

"I feel dishonest and the one thing I said I wouldn't do on the show was falsify anything. I feel wrong enough finishing this season, but we have an obligation to Buzzfeed so I intend to finish it, otherwise I wouldn't." Pausing, Ryan took a breath, feeling both drained and better now that he was talking about what had been eating away at him for months. The one thing that soured the mood was Shane, who looked so sad on his behalf that it filled Ryan with guilt. "Listen, I know this is a lot, but I'll be fine. It's just been a lot to deal with. I was sad, but now I'm just upset that I spent so much of my life believing and went so far as to make a _show_ out of my ridiculous beliefs. It sucks, but I'll be okay. Maybe once the show's over I'll make a video explaining what happened, make sure the fans know we're good, that we didn't have a falling out or something, but I'll decide when the time comes around."

Shane wasn't looking at him anymore and Ryan poked his arm to get his attention again.

"I know this was a lot to take in, so I'm sorry. I'll see you tomorrow at work, okay? We'll get a fresh start, verify our travel plans for Pennsylvania."

There was a moment of hesitation before Shane nodded and quietly said, "Okay."

"Goodnight."

Ryan waited for a reply which never came and after nodding awkwardly to dismiss himself, he turned and left Shane standing next to his car, expressionless and holding a bag of dessert popcorn he probably didn't realize he was still holding. By the time he made it back into the building, he still hadn't heard the telltale sign of Shane shutting the door to his car and he didn't have the energy to turn around and see what he was doing. He kept walking and didn't look back.

The next two weeks went by in largely the same manner. They were awkward around each other and their conversation became so stilted that it was like the rapport they'd built up over the past three years flew out the window. At first, Ryan thought they'd managed to hide it from their coworkers, but he soon realized that all that was getting hidden was his coworkers' speculations as to whether or not the show and friendship were done for. By the time he and Shane took off for Pennsylvania, he knew that the higher-ups were aware of the rift and were scrambling in the way corporate did, trying to figure out what to do with two of their most profitable personalities and minimize damage when the news inevitably leaked to the public.

It was bad enough that he was already contending with a crisis of faith, but the rumors that he'd somehow come to resent Shane for his skeptical beliefs added an additional crushing weight to his chest. He'd be lying if he said that there weren't times when he became irritated with his dismissive attitude towards what he'd once considered good evidence, but he never resented him as a person. Ryan felt like everything that had once made his life vibrant and fun had all at once turned against him, making every movement feel like he was swimming against the tide.

As if matters couldn't get any worse, their trek to Pennsylvania was an unmitigated disaster. The intro material was good and their banter was fine, if a little forced, but the investigation was off and sure to send up red flags in the fandom which was observant enough to notice when anything was even a bit off with them, nevertheless when everything was falling apart at the seams. Ryan knew he'd been too calm when doing his solo investigation of death row, but when he watched back some of the footage, he realized he looked downright bored at some parts. At another point, after he'd offhandedly dismissed a howling sound as a powerful gust of wind, Ryan saw that Shane had rolled his eyes at him behind his back. Worst of all, it looked like _Shane_ was leading the investigation instead of him. He was more aggressive than usual and, in a bit of footage he knew he'd have to cut the second Shane did it, he set fire to a small stack of paper and challenged the ghost of the arsonist who supposedly haunted the cell to set him on fire. No matter what way he cut it, Ryan knew the episode would be panned as the worst to date and if something didn't change, their final investigation at a bar in Idaho in two weeks would be even worse. He was on the verge of throwing off his headphones in disgust and taking the rest of the day off until Shane came careening into him.

Something Shane periodically did was use his rolly chair to crash into Ryan's, sending them both spinning away from their desks. At first, he'd been pissed off at him for the childish gesture, but then he realized that Shane only did it when he was so engrossed in his work that he hadn't come up for air in hours. Thanking his lucky stars that he had the good sense to buy wireless headphones, Ryan scooted back to his desk and threw them on his keyboard.

"What do you want, string bean?"

"For you to appreciate that I'm the Wayne Gretzky of office chair hockey." At the look of Ryan's amused confusion, Shane rushed to explain. "You know, it's like you're the hockey puck and I hit you..." he trailed off, then sighed. "That was a terrible analogy, wasn't it?"

Ryan wheezed. "No, it just never stops being sweet that you try to throw out a sports reference every once in awhile for me."

"It's not sweet."

"It's a little sweet."

They smiled at each other and for the first time in weeks it didn't feel somehow forced. Shane looked away and picked up a folder from the corner of his desk, placing it in front of Ryan.

"Early birthday present."

"Since when do you get me birthday presents?"

"I strike only once every three years. I'm like leap year when it comes to birthdays."

"Leap year is every four years."

"Can you stop shitting on my analogies and just open my very generous birthday present?"

Chuckling, Ryan flipped open the folder and saw what looked like a stack of legal papers, at closer inspection revealing themselves to be location release forms and liability waivers. He was about to spin in his chair and ask Shane a very much deserved "what the fuck?" when he saw the address listed as the filming location. His jaw dropped.

"No fucking way," he said in disbelief, shaking his head. "There's no fucking way."

"Yes way." Shane had a grin on his face as he leaned over and shuffled the legal documents aside to produce their plane tickets and hotel confirmation letter. "Forget Idaho, I cancelled it. In one month, we're going to Canada, baby!"

Ryan laughed freely and loudly, losing himself in the excitement of the opportunity to investigate the long fabled and feared Trelane Castle of Quebec, Canada. It was believed to be not only one of the most haunted places in North America, but the world. He'd been trying to get permission to film there since he realized Unsolved was a hit, but there was always one thing keeping him away from it; in fact, it was the same thing that kept every other paranormal investigative show from filming there.

"Seriously, how did you pull this off? Nobody has ever gotten permission to film there - _ever_ \- nevertheless investigate. I've only seen pictures and seconds of grainy footage captured on cellphones."

"For starters, Buzzfeed is having to pay the owner of the property a pretty penny to let us visit."

"I knew it!" Ryan exclaimed, clinching his fist in victory. "People have always speculated as to why Trelane only opens for tours a handful of times throughout the year and I always thought they only did it enough times to cover property taxes and upkeep."

Shane nodded and pushed back up his glasses. "Yeah, the current owner, some guy name Georges Gauthier, admitted that's the only reason he lets anyone inside and he won't sell it because, and I quote, 'his conscience won't allow it.' I'm guessing the place is cursed?"

The dismissive lilt he added to "cursed" made Ryan smile.

"It's rumored to be cursed, yeah. But people figure it's the act of living there that curses the person because ever since the family stopped living in it, they've stopped dying young and in increasingly grisly ways."

"Fun times."

"Jesus, Shane," Ryan laughed as he waved his hand imploringly. "Come on, what else?"

"Well, apparently he also opens it as a deterrent to keep people from breaking in. He figures that if he opens it periodically, people will wait for the announced tours instead of satiating their curiosity illegally. He claims a group of teenagers died there in the 70's because it hadn't been opened to the public for a decade and when he inherited the joint, he changed the policy. He hopes our show will act as a further deterrent, since he's requiring that we discuss its history in detail."

Ryan sighed, thinking over what he knew of its history. "Normally, I'd disagree. Our show tends to up tourism to the locations we visit, but he may be right. You know how all our London stops had pretty bad stories attached to them?"

"Yeah."

"Child's play compared to Trelane. Just going off what I know, this isn't the type of place that will inspire a little morbid fascination in people. That place is just... it's just bad, man."

Shane observed Ryan for a few seconds then pointed at him.

"You're serious. You genuinely think Trelane is bad news?"

"Even if you don't believe in hauntings, it's not the type of place you fuck with. I won't say anything else since I know you like to be surprised with the history at the location, but there's a reason it's earned the nickname the Devil's Maw."

"And I'm sure that, try as it might, the maw won't chew up and spit out the Ghoul Boys."

"You'd think with that big head of yours you'd come up with better punchlines," Ryan teased, looking back down at the file's contents strewn before him. He picked up the plane tickets, reading the information printed across the labels. Quietly, he asked, "Why'd you do this?"

"What do you mean?"

Ryan put the tickets back down and turned to look at Shane.

"This, all of this - why did you do it?"

Shane shrugged, frowning as he looked away from him. 

"I know you've always wanted to go there, so I made it happen."

"Don't just brush this off, man. I know this couldn't have been easy considering their blackout policy on investigations until now, not to mention they're letting us film on Halloween night, which - believe me - is already giving me heart palpitations just thinking about it." They both giggled at the observation. "Really, why go through the trouble?"

"It's just - if this is our last investigation, it should be a big one, you know? It should be somewhere you've always wanted to go."

Considering that their relationship was built on a foundation of light-hearted antagonism and similar tastes in movies, it was easy to forget sometimes that Shane had a big heart, one that bled for those he cared about. Ryan wondered how he'd gotten so lost in himself that he failed to consider how his behavior would affect Shane, someone he sat beside for hours nearly every day. He'd seen him running around like a madman for weeks, having meetings with their bosses, making calls, arriving to work early and leaving late, and on top of all that, he still somehow found time to check-in with him to see how he was.

And yet, not once, did he stop to think about how Shane was doing with their recent dynamic shift. Never did he think to ask how he was doing, why he seemed to be constantly on the move, what he was up to. Ryan knew he could obsess, focus on the small details so hard that he failed to see the big picture, but Shane excitedly handing him a folder with his dream investigation inside was a wake up call. It was one thing to focus on himself for awhile, but he had a life to lead, one with dreams he wanted to pursue and Shane had just fulfilled one. In that moment, he felt nothing but sweeping gratitude for his friend.

Opening his arms wide, he gestured for Shane to move towards him.

"C'mere, big guy."

Shane scooted closer in his chair and laughed. "Oh, do we hug now?"

"We're both full of surprises today," Ryan quipped, leaning into the hug. He allowed a second to pass, separating them from the humor so Shane would know his next words weren't a joke, that they carried a weight he wasn't sure he could voice face-to-face. "You're a good friend, Shane."

A few seconds passed in silence before he felt Shane's arms tighten, quietly replying, "I try."

Smiling at the sentiment, Ryan started to think that, even though his belief system was in shambles and he was still very much adrift in a sea of self-doubt, he wasn't nearly as alone as he thought he was.


	2. The Intro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are mentions of slavery in the 1800s and the mistreatment of native peoples. if you are sensitive to these topics, there's nothing graphic but they are present in the story
> 
> as with the last chapter, all facts are researched to the best of my abilities. if I got something incorrect, please let me know!!

In the weeks leading up to the investigation of Trelane Castle, Ryan scrambled to assemble a comprehensive history of the estate, working nonstop during work hours and often times taking his work home to keep going. He fell into a familiar pattern, one he loved and missed dearly for the past several months. Ryan knew he was racing against the clock and thankfully, Gauthier eased the pressure a bit by providing documentation on the castle's many deaths so all he had to do was verify them instead of search for them himself. There were a few times when Shane managed to distract him, most notably when he took him to Knott's Berry Farm for a day, but for the most part, he was lost to the world.

During the five hour flight into Montréal, he went through all his research notes again and spent most of the day before the shoot Facetiming with the animators and editors at HQ to start planning graphics and effects. Come time to leave for filming, Ryan could admit he was a mess of nerves and he asked Shane to drive them to the castle under the guise of him having more experience driving in snow. He seemed to get a kick out of Ryan's excuse, but accepted the keys after a little obligatory ribbing.

"Question: Why would some super rich Frenchman build a castle in the boonies?"

Ryan smirked at his script notes, proofing them one last time before shooting. "I feel like that's an opening for a good French bashing joke, but since there's an actual reason..."

Shane pulled off the main road and started driving down the private drive that led to Trelane's gates.

"Living miles from town in a frozen wonderland," Shane said, then loudly sniffed the air. "Smells suspicious."

Ryan snickered and looked over at him.

"You have a detective nose now?"

"The art of deduction requires the use of all five senses, my dear Bergara."

"Shut the fuck up," he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you're still on that."

"Crime never sleeps," Shane replied ominously, the effect ruined by his exaggerated serious expression.

Pulling to a stop at the gates, Shane leaned out of the car and typed in the security code provided by Gauthier. After a few seconds, the large iron gates started to creak open slowly, admitting them to the grounds.

"Talk about setting the mood, am I right?"

Knowing Mark was probably recording in the backseat, Ryan laughed and turned to Shane, thinking the footage might get used for a bit.

"Getting Haunted Mansion vibes?"

"Haunted? No. Mansion? Yes."

Ryan rolled his eyes and looked out the window, seeing expansive gardens stretch out beyond the snow-capped trees that lined the gravel road they were driving on. They drove for about a minute in silence until he heard Shane quietly gasp beside him.

"Holy shit."

Facing out the windshield, Ryan felt his eyes widen as he took in the massive structure for the first time. He'd declined to go with TJ and their film crew earlier in the day to scout out filming locations for the castle and grounds, wanting his surprise to be genuine, and the sight before him made him immediately understand why, when Ryan asked what the place felt like, TJ had merely replied, "overwhelming."

"Jesus Christ."

"What is this? The Palace of Versailles of Canada?"

"Uh, actually," Ryan started, scrolling through the top of his notes on Trelane until he found what he was looking for. "Yeah, it's built in the same architectural style as Versailles and the Château de Maisons-Laffitte. It's called French baroque."

"You also got a note in there about whether or not the guy went  _ba_ -roke building it?"

Ryan stared out the window with a blank expression like he was on The Office, refusing to look over at Shane who, he could see out of his periphery, looked far too pleased with himself.

"That is literally the dumbest pun you've ever made."

"That was a top notch pun. Top shelf. The Hennessy of puns."

"You don't even drink Hennessy!" Ryan retorted with a laugh.

"I'm about to if it's as good as my puns."

Shane parked in the gravel lot that served as Trelane's parking lot, the three of them getting out of the car to take in the grounds and castle as they waited for TJ, Neil, and Devon to set up the shot. Once they got the go ahead to walk up the front steps, they got into position and started to make their way up.

"I'm sensing a bit of a Napoleon complex here. No one builds something this big without compensating for something."

Ryan smirked. "Actually, you want a fun fact about Napoleon?"

Shane turned his handheld camera away from the castle to focus on Ryan.

"You know I never turn down a fun fact."

"Napoleon was actually above average height for a Frenchman at the time," he explained, smiling at Shane's surprised expression. "The reason people think he's short is because he was always seen with his Imperial Guard who, in order to be a member, were all required to be above average height. Also, when he was measured at death, he was measured at 5'2", but that was according to a French yardstick. The modern equivalent is 5'7"."

"Next thing you're gonna tell me is that he didn't even have an inferiority complex!"

"No, he totally did, but it was because his mother favored his brother and he was bullied in school. The height and inferiority complex thing were conflated as one by British propaganda."

They came to a stop at the top of the stairs and faced each other.

"Thank you for that fun French fact. It was, in fact, fun."

"I thought I'd throw a history fact out there for you; you know, since you're sweet enough to throw out a sports reference every once in awhile for me."

Shane scoffed and rolled his eyes. "It wasn't that sweet!"

"It was though!" he laughed, patting Shane's arm. Nothing made him happier than razzing Shane and his residual embarrassment from first making a sports reference for his entertainment was fertile ground. "Just admit it. It'll stay between you and me and our four million viewers."

Shane shook his head and laughed. "Just open the door to the wannabe Napoleon's castle."

"Alright, alright, alright." Ryan pulled the key out of his inner coat pocket and unlocked the door, revealing the expansive foyer, only moonlight brightening the space. A heavy, oppressive feeling overcame him when he stepped foot inside and while he dismissed it as paranoia, the rationalization didn't stop him from uttering a quiet, "Oh."

"This is incredible! Too bad we're not staying the night." Ryan felt a trickle of cold fear run down his spine at the thought and he turned to Shane, who shrugged and apologetically said, "It was the one thing Gauthier refused to be moved on; he compromised by letting us come on Halloween. Oh, and we also aren't allowed to use a Oujia board."

_Fine by me_ , Ryan thought as he looked around at the extravagant foyer, the unease in his chest becoming more difficult to ignore. It would be good for the show, faking fear was definitely not high in his acting repertoire, but he was annoyed that his no longer believing in the paranormal apparently didn't stop him from feeling fear in a "haunted" location. He supposed that it would take awhile for that part to fade, perhaps it was his mind psyching itself out because he knew the terrible history of the castle, but he'd been fine in their last two or three locations, even knowing all the bad shit that happened in their respective locations. He was pulled out of his reverie by their team setting up the shot for him and Shane to film the intro.

They were seated in authentic Chippendale chairs between marble pillars, the shot centering a mahogany table with a large flower arrangement behind them. The dark hallway beyond the foyer, imperial staircase, and gas chandelier made the shot unusually symmetrical, their team gushing so much about the beauty of the shot that Ryan and Shane both got up to check it out on the monitor. Shane joined in their enthusiasm, but Ryan kept feeling himself getting pulled into the darkness of the hallway. He hollowly echoed Shane's sentiments before they took their seats again, Ryan taking a moment to collect himself, focusing on the marble black and white checkered floor so he didn't have to focus on himself.

After they got the thumbs up from their team that they were good to go, Ryan turned to a camera with a look that said he was ready to get down to business and studiously ignored Shane, who he could see peripherally looking at him critically.

"This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate Trelane Castle in Quebec, Canada, as part of our ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?"

Thankfully, Shane dropped the look and slipped into his on-screen persona, doing his usual shake of the head at the rhetorical question.

"As you can see behind us, this place is a little, uh - little more luxurious than most of the places we investigate."

"Don't sell this place short, Ryan. You once sat on a couch and left a perfect butt print in dust at a previous location."

Ryan laughed at the memory. "G-g-ghost butt!"

"No ghost butts here, ghouligans! Just me, Ryan, and a whole lotta furniture I'm scared to touch."

"Too rich for your blood?"

"Too rich for the blood of 99.99% of the world's population," he retorted, pointing down at his chair. "I could probably sell every single one of my organs on the black market and still not afford this chair."

"Don't let that stop you from trying." Ryan snickered and pointed over his shoulder at the chandelier. "I do know that chandelier is the single most valuable thing here though. The current owner got an offer a few years ago for it for $7 million."

Shane gaped at him and then shifted in his chair to look at the offending chandelier.

"I've never been near something worth so much."

Ryan scrunched up his face in confusion. "Haven't you been to the Louvre? You've seen the Mona Lisa. That's actually priceless."

"Nah, I don't buy that. A handyman once walked out of the Louvre with it under his smock and kept it in a trunk for two years. It's only worth as much as the heist." Shane turned to the camera focused on him with a serious expression. "Do it, steal the Mona Lisa. Heist that enigmatic lady and we'll put you in the next season of True Crime."

"Do not -," Ryan started, laughing in disbelief at what he was having to say. "Do not steal the Mona Lisa."

"Do it, I know you want to. I saw some of the, uh, critiques you guys posted about the Gardner Museum Heist. Learn from their errors, do it right. Go forth, you intrepid miscreants," he said with a smirk, then winked at the camera.

"Okay, now that we're done endorsing major crimes on foreign soil - while on foreign soil - should we go ahead and get into the major crimes committed in this very house?" Ryan asked, trying to keep them on track even though he was amused by their current runaway train of thought.

"Oh, absolutely!"

"Alright, then let's get into it."

**_Built between the years of 1823 and 1827 by Baron François Adolphe de Champaigne Trelane, Trelane Castle, also known as Château de Toulouse in honor of his birthplace in France, is three stories high and built with the finest materials available at the time, including marble, granite, mahogany and cheery wood, Angers slate, and limestone. With the goal in mind of intimidating and astounding those in the colony, Trelane was built to be the largest private residence in the province and because of its massive size, remained so until 2006._ **

_**Considered by many to be amongst the most haunted locations in the world, Trelane boasts a uniquely sordid and bloody history which could account for the varied activity reported since land break; ranging from the more innocuous occurrences like cold spots and possessions going missing, to the more dangerous like objects flying across rooms and people being pushed down flights of stairs. Tonight, Shane and I will endeavor to capture as many of these occurrences as possible since we are the first paranormal investigators to conduct an investigation of Trelane and, assuming the current owner doesn't change his mind, the last.** _

"That's right, baby! We're getting the  _exclusive_  exclusive treatment."

"Yeah, this is as exclusive as it gets and in order to capture as much as possible, we've installed static cameras in hot spots throughout the property such as the kitchen, cellar, formal dining room, butler's quarters, the Baron's bedroom, library, and formal ballroom."

"Aren't all ballrooms formal?" Shane asked with genuine confusion.

"Yeah, except there's two ballrooms here," Ryan explained, laughing at Shane's aghast expression. "One used for big, formal affairs and the other for smaller, more private ones."

Shane shook his head at the camera focused on him. "Rich people."

Ryan laughed. "I hate it as much as you do, but believe me, you're going to love what happened in there, guaranteed."

"I sure hope so," he said, before leaning his head back and yelling at the ceiling, "Right, ghosts? You better make it worth my while! I country hopped for this!"

Shane looked back at Ryan with a smirk, Ryan returning his smirk with a glare. He was about to get back to his script when a loud, crashing sound startled him, the sound coming from right above their heads. He looked up, then back to Shane, who was looking up at the ceiling as well.

"Did you hear that?"

"Sounds like something big fell down," he said, then looked back at Ryan. "Is that where the library is? A bookshelf could've fallen over."

"I don't know what's above us, but it's not the library. The library is on all three stories and the bookcases are all built-in."

"Hopefully one of our cameras is in there then, wherever there is."

They shared a look before he turned to their team behind the camera who, while looking a little rattled, still gave them the go-ahead. He picked up his phone again and picked up where he left off.

_**Before construction could begin, the land had to be cleared of dwellings and inhabitants, at the time believed to be a settlement of the native tribe, Cree, known to this specific region as the Innu. Upwards of 100 Innu were forced from their homes during an unusually cold fall, and adding to that the food shortage they were suffering at the time, it is believed that their expulsion from their own land resulted in the deaths of at least 20. Staying close to the area, it is said that several of the normally peaceful Innu vowed vengeance on the man who caused the deaths of so many.** _

"I hate this guy already."

"Me too," Ryan agreed. He could see that Shane was already bothered by the history (Ryan had noticed awhile ago that Shane seemed to be especially sensitive to the suffering of native peoples), and knowing it wasn't going to get any better, decided to give a little warning. "I tried to give Trelane the benefit of the doubt at first, like that he didn't know it was native land with people living on it, but he did know and didn't care."

"I swear to god if this ends with him dying peacefully in his sleep, I'm going to find a way to time travel so Banjo McClintock and Ricky Goldsworth can go back and take care of business."

Ryan nodded. "I can confirm Ricky Goldsworth would like to get this guy alone for five minutes."

"Just - tell me he dies bad. I need to know it's bad or I won't be able to focus on anything else."

"He dies really bad, you'll love it."

Shane sighed and put a hand on his chest. "Okay, I feel better. Go ahead and give me more reasons to hate him so he deserves his bad death even more than he already does."

_**During initial construction, the first instances of paranormal activity and deaths directly tied to the house occured. Workers reported equipment going missing, feelings of unease and nausea, and other odd irregularities such as sinkholes forming in land already deemed stable and the death of all imported trees and plants.** _

_**Four months into construction is when the first death unconnected to the expulsion of the Innu occurred. Aiden Till, a 38 year -old architect who specialized in cellar construction, was inspecting the cellar area when other workers heard a bloodcurdling scream that was abruptly cut off. Rushing into the cellar, the workers were horrified to find Aiden sprawled across the floor, clearly dead with a broken neck and his face frozen in a scream. The coroner's report later revealed that, while his neck was broken, it wasn't fatal and his real cause of death was a heart attack, prompting the coroner to note that they believed he was scared to death.** _

"Scared to death!?" Shane said with amazement. "Was that really in the report?"

"Yeah, check this out," Ryan responded, pulling up the pictures of the coroner's report in his album for the case and passing Shane his phone. "This case has actually gone down as one of the most bizarre unsolved cases in Canadian history because they don't know how his neck broke or what scared him enough to cause a heart attack."

"No one was in the basement with him?"

"Nope. Every construction worker was accounted for at the time of his death and if someone was down there with him, they don't know how the culprit would have escaped because they would've had to walk past a group of guys working on the kitchen floor."

Shane looked up from the phone with a knowing expression. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess you're going ghost murderer on this one."

"What other explanation is there!?" Ryan bellowed, the retort coming easily through the twinge of guilt he felt at lying to the audience. "No one else was down there and he broke his neck. Doing what? Nerding too hard over his blueprints for the cellar?"

"What if the guys in the kitchen did it?"

"What if the - are you serious!? You think they went all Murder on the Orient Express on his ass?"

"It's more probable than murder ghost!"

Ryan snatched back his phone. "Can you at least admit it's weird?"

"I'll do you one better: it's super weird."

"Gee, thanks, pal," Ryan said with a dry tone, tabbing back to his script.

"You're welcome, buddy."

Ryan flipped him off before he started reading again.

_**By the end of 1825, construction on the main portion of the house was completed and Baron Trelane, wanting to avoid losing his 25 slaves due to an 1815 decree abolishing slavery going into effect in 1826, fled France and moved in early, much to the chagrin of the construction workers and the community at large who, mostly being of French descent, already knew of him.** _

_**Legend has it that after the first night spent in the castle, Trelane awoke to find his favorite portrait of himself slashed in half. Blaming one of his slaves - a woman named Drea who had privately expressed dismay about the move - he banished her to a room without windows in an unfinished wing without food and water for two days. By nighttime on the first night, when another slave was trying to sneak her a blanket and food, they discovered that she had already died of exposure, marking her as the first death directly attributed to Baron Trelane.** _

Shane put a hand up to halt Ryan from reading further. "Okay, one: Trelane is a fucking murderer and I can't wait to hear how he dies. Two: Drea was left in a room with no windows in Canada, without food and water, and he expected her to survive?"

"I wondered that myself, and I honestly don't know. He was known for his cruelty and it wouldn't surprise me if he was trying to make an example of her, like 'disobey or go against what I say and this happens.' This guy is truly a piece of shit, man. I wouldn't be surprised if he did purposely murder her."

"Also, am I understanding you correctly that he built this castle just so he wouldn't have to lose his slaves?"

Looking at the corresponding section of his notes, Ryan noted, "There was also talk that he was falling out of favor with the bourgeoisie, but slavery was the main reason for his move, yeah."

"And did the bourgeoisie hate him because he apparently thought slavery was an okay thing to do?" he said, disgust apparent in his tone.

"Those who did want to abolish slavery did hate him for that reason, but he was also just known as a terrible person. He had an abrasive personality and flaunted his wealth to such a degree that even other wealthy people found it distasteful. Basically, nobody was sad to see him go."

"And I won't be either when he dies at some point in this story."

Ryan nodded in agreement. "Same here, man."

_**By mid-1834, approximately nine years after first moving in, Trelane could no longer avoid the steady march of progress. The British Empire officially abolished slavery across all territories, then including modern day Quebec, on August 1, 1834 and Trelane, still desperate to keep his slaves, avoided sending his slaves on errands into town so they would not catch wind of the news and leave. This strategy only worked until Halloween of the same year when, in a flurry of supervising party arrangements, offhandedly sent one of his slaves into town to pick up candies from a local chocolatier.** _

_**According to sensationalized newspaper accounts from the time, the slave, named Bella, was about to return when an Innu woman named Wawetseka, stopped her. Wawetseka, who had acted as a translator between her tribe and the local government, asked Bella why she continued to work for her "cruel master" when she could be free. Confused by her meaning, Bella asked what she meant by "free." Wawetseka explained that slavery had been abolished and that all slaves were free of their owners. Bella, rightfully furious at Trelane, hatched a plan with Wawetseka to murder him.** _

"Fuck yeah!" Shane cheered, smiling and clearly enjoying where the story was going. "This is what I've been waiting for!"

Ryan smiled back, happy that Shane no longer looked miserable and more than ready to tell him his favorite part of the castle's history.

"Now, I know we've previously debated the morality of justifiable homicide -."

"A case if I've ever seen one. Kill him dead."

Laughing, Ryan said, "That quick to pull the trigger? I thought you were a little more hesitant to go full murder."

"I am hesitant, but there's a huge distinction between Ken Rex McElroy and Trelane. McElroy, clearly a bad guy, no doubt, but Trelane is a slave owner who's caused like - what, over twenty deaths?"

"Between the Innu deaths, Till, Drea and at least another three slaves in the impending years, you could argue he's responsible for 25 deaths, yeah."

"Right, which means that, unlike McElroy, this guy is a straight up murderer."

"So what's your distinction here?" Ryan asked, genuinely interested. "Where do you see the line with justifiable homicide?"

Shane stopped to think about it for a moment. "Overall, I don't really know, but Trelane is in a league all his own. Although, full disclosure, I could probably read any story about a slave owner getting murdered and think it was justified."

"I'll give you that, but what about outside of that? Is your line that they have to be a murderer for it to be justified?"

"Yeah, I think that's a pretty good place to start."

Ryan smirked as something occurred to him. "Vigilante justice... that's very Batman of you."

Shane put his hands over his eyes, leaving only a crack between his fingers wide enough to see through, and threw his voice down a couple octaves. "I'm Batman."

"That was way better than Bale's Batman voice!" Ryan complimented, impressed.

"Hey!" Shane exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. "We don't talk about the one flaw in Bale's otherwise flawless turn as the Caped Crusader."

"It's one of the most important things about him!" Ryan refuted. "We have to talk about it!"

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do."

"No, we don't."

Rolling his eyes, Ryan chuckled. "Whatever. The point is, Trelane's about to get what he's due and we're fucking hyped for it."

"Hyped to the max."

Both giggled for a few seconds before Ryan thought to add one more layer to the story before continuing.

"Oh, and by the way, just to add to the sense of justice that's about to come down hard on Trelane, Bella was the sister of Drea and Wawetseka lost two cousins and a brother when her tribe was initially removed from the land for construction."

"Ooh so they both have a personal stake in seeing Trelane dead!"

"Yes, and now they're allies plotting against him." Rubbing his hands together, Ryan smiled at Shane. "Get ready for a real whopper of a murder."

_**Come nightfall, Trelane's Halloween masquerade ball was in full swing. The theme: Conquest of the Savage Lands. Many guests arrived in faux native garb, a deliberate mockery of native dress and attire. Trelane himself presided over the ball wearing a Cree chief's headdress he bought at an auction for the occasion. Unknown to Trelane and the ball's attendees, the now former slaves of Trelane and about twenty Innu were mobilizing in the private ballroom to overtake the party in the formal ballroom.** _

_**Once plans were finalized, they collectively marched into the formal ballroom, the former slaves able to blend in because they were in their formal servant's attire and the Innu because the theme covered for them. Wawetseka reportedly called loudly to Trelane from across the room, plunging the party into silence. He furiously yelled at her, calling for her removal, but none made a move to touch her, instead clearing a path between them so they could watch both of them. She said the names of those she lost because of his brutality, aimed her arrow at him, and fired.** _

_**The crowd, assuming it was all a part of an elaborate show, cheered when she got him dead center in the chest. Wawetseka's arrow launched a flurry of activity, signalling the beginning of the attack. Her fellow Innu and Trelane's freed slaves converged on the party and killed Trelane, as well as several government officials who had advocated for policies that adversely affected natives and allies of Trelane who also once owned slaves. Only once the party-goers realized that people were actually dying, and not as a part of a show, did they start to flee. Knowing that law officials would be informed quickly of what had happened, the Innu took the freed slaves to safety, but not before Wawetseka tore the chief's headdress off of Trelane's head.** _

_**In what qualified as a media frenzy at the time, reports detailed how each of the fourteen dead died and what their sins had been. A columnist reported that the scene "looked like something you'd see in the circles of Dante's hell... an atrocity spit out from the Devil's own maw" giving Trelane Castle its now infamous nickname of The Devil's Maw and getting the incident labelled Massacre at Devil's Maw.** _

"Holy shit!" Shane laughed, his hands on his head portraying his disbelief. "Holy shit! They thought it was a play!"

Ryan joined in his laughter. "They thought it was a fucking play until bodies started to drop!"

"I love it. I love it so fucking much."

"I told you that you would!"

"What a wild party! Goodness me, Trelane really knows how to throw a proper bash," Shane said with an obnoxious French accent. "Oh. Oh! Oh, goodness, Harold! I believe that man has bit the fucking dust!"

They laughed hysterically, tears running down their faces at the imagery. Just when their laughter seemed to taper off, it took only one look at the other to start laughing again. Eventually, Ryan got control of himself so he could look back at his notes.

"I loved the whole thing, but I have to say, my favorite part is Wawetseka taking the headdress back."

"Agreed. And that arrow to the chest from across the room - iconic."

"The cooperation between the two forces is so great too because, like, you have these two groups of people, both horribly wronged by Trelane and deserving of a go at vengeance, working together as a unit to make it happen, then leaving together. Is that the murder plot equivalent of a mic drop?"

"Die ugly, you son of a bitch. I love my new friends," Shane said, dropping an imaginary mic then kissing two fingers to lift into a peace sign.

"I love my new murder friends!"

"Now, the natural follow up here... what happened to them?"

Ryan smiled. "Never tried because they couldn't be found. It was only thirty or so years later that their settlement was found, about 500 miles west, and by then they were all old or dead. Their descendants later claimed that they survived on the land for several years before building up the settlement."

"Wait, so we have an actual happy ending here?"

"For that portion of the story, yeah."

"Nobody as bad as Trelane comes along again, do they?" he asked warily.

"No, but there are some unsavory characters."

Shane waved a dismissive hand. "Go ahead, kill the good vibes."

_**Following the death of Baron Trelane, his brother, Jean-Louis, moved in with his wife and six children. According to his wife's diary, strange occurences like rooms suddenly plunging in temperature and "dark feelings" started to plague the family. She moved them out of the castle after only a year, leaving it to a cousin of Trelane's.** _

_**The next two homeowners, both relatives of Trelane, mysteriously disappeared within several years of moving into the castle. It sat vacant for thirty years until one of Jean-Louis' grandchildren, a woman named Beatrice, decided to take over the place in 1899. She married in 1901 and a few short years later in 1904, she pushed her husband off the balcony of a third floor bedroom, killing him instantly. She would later claim during her trial that she had been possessed at the time, leading her to be institutionalized until the time of her death in 1918 of Spanish flu.** _

"You think she was possessed," Shane said matter-of-factly.

"Obviously," he affirmed, hating that he was lying through his teeth to maintain their dynamic. "Friends of the couple said that they never heard a bad word about either of them, they were even trying to have a baby at the time. The only thing they confirmed is that both of them complained about the strange nature of the house."

"That doesn't mean she was possessed!"

"Why else would she push her husband off a third floor balcony!?"

"I don't know, maybe his ascot was a little off center that day."

Ryan blinked. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

_**Word about Trelane being haunted spread through the province and the Trelane family encountered difficulties in retaining groundskeepers, at one point going through six in one year. One of the first groundskeepers, a distant relative of the Trelane's, got dragged to death by his horse who, until that time, was known to be of a gentle nature. Two other Trelane family members who lived in the house would come to similarly gruesome ends, one getting decapitated in an automobile accident on the grounds and another falling from the ladder in the library and getting impaled on a sword display.** _

_**By the 1940s, the castle was something of a spectacle in Canada and the family opened Trelane to tours. Guests reported objects falling off shelves, odd sounds and voices, and in a handful of cases, being pushed. The worst incident occurred in 1958 when a guest claimed she was pushed down a flight of stairs, resulting in a broken neck. As a result, the Trelane family closed the castle to tours.** _

"I'm trying to remember the name of - it was a miniseries written by Stephen King, I think. Do you know what I'm talking about or am I blowing hot air here?"

Ryan wracked his brain for the answer. "Is it the one with a team of psychics?"

"Yeah! Yeah, what was that one?"

"Rose Red?"

"Yeah! This house is like Rose Red! People keep dyin' and people keep comin'."

"There's a lot to be said for a place that could potentially prove that the supernatural exists."

"But at what cost?" Shane said with a laugh, then pitched his voice higher. "Sure, I might die in this crazy house, but at least I'll prove ghosts are real!" he finished with a thumbs up.

Ryan wheezed. "I don't think people came here with a death wish! I think they just wanted to experience the paranormal first hand, you know?"

"I want to experience flight, but I'm not about to jump off a cliff without a parachute or one of those glider onsies."

"Shane Madej: The 7 Foot Tall Sugar Glider."

"Did I ever tell you that if I were to be an animal, I'd want to be a sugar glider?"

Ryan stared back with a blank expression. "A sugar glider. Out of all the animals in the world, you'd choose to be a sugar glider."

"They're cute, have brown eyes, and they can fly. They're basically me, but they can fly."

"Did you really just call yourself cute?"

"Are you disputing that I am?" he asked, hands on his face and an exaggerated sweet expression.

"I - well, no," Ryan replied, stumbling over his words from being put on the spot. "But a sugar glider? Really?"

"Not all of us want to be bears, Ryan."

"I wouldn't be a bear! I'd be a penguin."

Shane gasped. "A penguin!?"

"A penguin. They're shaped cool, they're excellent swimmers, they're cute -."

"Oh, so you can call yourself cute, but I can't!?"

"This has just - this has gone so far off the rails," Ryan laughed. "Can we please finish this intro then debate whether we can call ourselves cute or not?"

"Fine, but I can already tell you I stand firmly on the ground that we can call ourselves cute."

_**Having stood abandoned for over ten years, a group of seven teenagers broke into Trelane on September 15, 1972. Thought to be done on a dare, they broke in with the intention of staying the night. When none of them returned home by the following Monday for school, a mass search was conducted to find them. All were ultimately found dead throughout different parts of Trelane, seemingly having killed each other with various weapons from inside the castle.** _

_**Again abandoned aside from various groundskeepers, the house sat vacant until 1999 when the current owner, Georges Gauthier, a descendant of Baron Trelane's, inherited the castle and decided to once again open it up for tours, which leads to Shane and me being here tonight on the 184th anniversary of the Massacre at Devil's Maw.** _

"Seven teenagers turn up dead in a haunted house. Sounds like a bad 80s slasher flick."

"I thought the same thing," Ryan agreed. "It was like all the 80s slasher writers got together and were like 'all the teenagers die, but in a haunted house. Perfect.'"

"0/10 for originality. Would not waste my money seeing it in theaters. Wait for the Betamax."

"You would've gone Betamax, Mr. Movie Reviewer," Ryan scoffed, then laughed. "Which one would you have been? Siskel or Ebert?"

"Siskel was from Chicago, so I'm going Siskel."

"I always did like Ebert more. Don't you think we're kind of like them?"

Shane tapped a finger against his chin. "We're like the Siskel and Ebert of murder."

"Shaky motive, too many loose ends," Ryan said with a pretentious accent.

"Weak alibi, shoddy investigation."

They were both still laughing when TJ turned on a few more lights and called over to him.

"Ryan, you reached the end of the script, yeah?"

"Yeah," he called back. "Do you think we're good on intro material?"

"I think so. You two feel good with what we got?"

Ryan looked over to Shane, who nodded his head. He nodded back and waved over to TJ that they were good. The crew started packing up the equipment to either carry back out to the car or to carry around for the shoot. Ryan closed out of the script on his phone, then stared at himself on the blank screen, torn yet again about what he was doing and the bad feeling sitting in his chest.

"Ryan."

Looking over at Shane, he lifted his eyebrows in question. His insides recoiled at the concern on his face.

"You good?"

Thinking it over for a second, Ryan nodded back and forced a smile.

"Yeah, I'm good. Let's do this."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for your kudos, comments, critiques, angry banshee screams, or whatever you leave for me here or at my tumblr ***[mycroft-silently-judges-you](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com)***


End file.
